


Sinful Eloquence

by vivial



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 05:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivial/pseuds/vivial
Summary: Marisa had never in her life felt so denied and so faded as she did when that atrocious man took her hand. He contemptuously measured her (and everyone else) with his eyes and a know-it-all smirk that made her eye twitch, ever so slightly. It was only for a second, and she knew no one else noticed when her bright smile faded for an instant, but she also knew he saw it. A second later and she was back to her normal, glorious self, but the damage had been done already.





	Sinful Eloquence

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to respect canon as much as I could, though anything related to La Belle Sauvage might have been overlooked since I only read it once and I can't remember things quite precisely. Sorry for any grammar mistakes, I revised it as much as I could but something always stay behind. I really love these characters, so this is my take on them. This story is from Marisa's point of view, so I'd like to think I did a good job of making her unreliable, but you never know.

 

“Lord Asriel, I believe you haven’t met Mrs. Coulter yet.”

One of the guests introduced them at the gathering at the Royal Arctic Institute, which was not particularly interesting as they usually were. Her colleagues at St. Sophia’s had encouraged her to attend the event, as an opportunity to make herself acquainted with people from her field of research. Edward told her to do the same, mostly because he was busy, _again_ , and her questions about what to do were getting in his way. Not that she ever _needed_ his opinion, but she had to play the part of dutiful, caring wife, and he played well the role of the busy husband.

His indifference made her flinch.

Not Edward’s, though; Asriel’s. It was enough to make Ozymandias edgier than usual. Marisa had never in her life felt so denied and so faded as she did when that atrocious man took her hand. He contemptuously measured her (and everyone else) with his eyes and a know-it-all smirk that made her eye twitch, ever so slightly. It was only for a second, and she knew no one else noticed when her bright smile faded for an instant, but she also knew he saw it. A second later and she was back to her normal, glorious self, but the damage had been done already.

Oh, the gall! That man disregarded her without even a second glance, it bothered Marisa. A cold feeling began to take over her, since being overpowered like that was quite unusual and unfamiliar for her. Ozymandias became uneasy, agitating his little black hands as discreetly as he could, so no one would notice how puzzled and annoyed they were. Once or twice her rising career made people whisper about her and doubt her abilities, and she could prove them wrong by either showing them how clever she could be or simply mesmerise them with her grace and beauty. There was a sour touch to her sweetness that most people couldn’t notice, but it worked like a spell. A soft compliment here, a small indulgence there and Marisa had what she wanted or needed, almost with no effort. She could charm herself out of hell if needed. Without that alluring effect, however, she was left with every single thing about herself that was not very flattering, in her opinion, but that didn’t happen very often, if at all.

“It’s a pleasure.” It was all he said, as he backed away from her hand and herself, uninterested. He was everything but ordinary; from a distance, he looked imposing, very stoic. Up close, the seriousness in his posture was put aside when his eyes met hers and she saw that dark spark of amusement, as if he knew when the world was about to end but did not want to share with others. His snow leopard was a beautiful thing to watch, regal, classy, _bored_. She was laying down on the floor, her head between her paws. Though he was good-looking in a wild, untamed way, Marisa thought he was overstating it by going to such a classy, formal gathering in travelling worn-out clothes, but it was apparent now that he didn’t seem interested in the party at all.

“Likewise.” She said, sweet and beautiful, as if the false spring infused itself into her very nature. He nodded with contempt in his eyes, as if he saw through her act altogether, but he said nothing and left her behind to greet someone else. In the background, there was the soft mumble of one of her colleague’s voice, but she hardly heard it. Her commentaries were about Lord Asriel being a man of great influence and an explorer, how his research was important and how he was so defiant of the Magisterium’s rules and so on and so forth.

 _Why is he here, though?_ It was everything she could think of. Her golden monkey twirled back and forth, uneasy, conflicted, curious. The man clearly didn’t care much for the party itself, he almost looked as if he didn’t belong at all. He kept himself busy speaking to scholars, researchers and explorers instead of the lords and aristocrats. He flirted with uninterest and in moderation with the ladies, while all the time his dæmon maintained her bored, bland expression, lying beside him.

Marisa could tell from miles away that he had an agenda. He had no other reason to behave like that, because he didn’t seem like a man who would waste his time being social for nothing. For a second, she forgot he had payed little to no attention to her, and she focused instead on his act across the room. She took another drink, and decided to leave him be. He wasn’t worth the effort, but somehow Asriel managed to pull her towards him with little effort, something she found unnerving.

“Lord Asriel has unorthodox views about almost anything.” One of the lords surrounding her said, since she had gathered quite the crowd around her, charming and laughing vividly, beautifully. They were speaking of a recent lecture most of them had attended, something about echoes of frequency from the magnetic field. Marisa was not particularly interested in it, yet mentioned it only to keep people talking as she analyzed her surroundings. Suddenly, she no longer felt in a partying mood. The young lord, some minor noble that wasn’t necessarily familiar with the subject, kept going. “I heard he recently arrived from the North again, with a mind-blowing discovery, no less, though the lucky bastards at Jordan College were the only ones he spoke to about.”

She’d never heard of Asriel before and wondered how on Earth did she manage to skip him so easily. His feats were remarkable and groundbreaking. Yet, she missed his face on the papers, even if Edward mentioned him once or twice, since he was always at odds against the policies regulating experimental theology’s progress. Marisa knew his patterns now; he was a philosopher, a man of theory imbedded in a psyche yearning for excitement. There was no point staying surrounded by lords and ladies of high birth when the man himself was too busy with his explorer colleagues.

With ease,  Marisa managed to captivate a group of scholars and experimental theologians, some of them from Jordan College, and watched carefully as they all discussed, mesmerised by her graceful compliments and insights. It took less than ten minutes for Lord Asriel to approach them, with his smug attitude and contemptuous grin. Ozymandias, seated at her shoulder, whispered in her ear that he could use a shower, but despite her agreement with her dæmon, Marisa thought Asriel’s untidy and dustied appearance made him pop up amongst the well-dressed lords and ladies, or the modest looking scholars. She realised that might have been his intention from the start.

“That is quite a conservative view for a Scholar, Mrs. Coulter.” Asriel said, interrupting her mid-sentence. This time Marisa didn’t flinch, not even for a second and she smiled horribly, in a way that showed she wasn’t happy with his rudeness and his imposing posture. Ozymandias didn’t move either, though they were both quite offended by this man in worn-out outfit. With his stoic face covered by a dark beard, he looked as if he had been in the wild for months - which Marisa considered, it might have been true. He sounded so serious, so vague, but they locked eyes amongst the small group of scholars and lords chatting around them. One across the other in the circle, Marisa saw that spark of amusement in his eyes, and she didn’t quite get it until much later in the evening. “One does not require an extensive understanding of the sacred texts to fully understand how the world works, because it works by itself.”

“I have a feeling the Church might _strongly_ disagree with you, Lord Asriel. Though I also believe you need not hear that from me because you are well aware of that, aren’t you?” She said, sipping her wine, never once taking her eyes off his. Under normal circumstances, an ordinary person would have looked away after that sore tone and strong gaze, but not him. For all that Heaven was worth, Asriel would _never_ look away and that only pushed her further, discontented and insistent in understanding how could he command such respect and reverence with no effort. She shook her free hand in a gesture of indifference and spoke again. “Besides, traditional views tend to be the most sensible ones, and often the most correct, so I see no problem in pursuing them.”

She had spoken about how the Earth’s atmosphere was in constant change, and for a little bit of flair, she added the common sense that it was most likely a divine punishment, regardless of cause. Asriel laughed at that and laughed again, now, when she tried her best to play elusively with her crowd. Almost all of them were men, but the two women with them were also quite mesmerised by her. That is, until Asriel interrupted their conversation and took from her all their attention. All he had to do was breathe nearby, it was astounding.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Coulter, I did not take you for a religious woman at all, my mistake.” He said, but there was no sign in his voice, or his body language, that expressed he was sorry. Instead, he offered her a grin, a vicious and disdainful smile, as if it amused him to see her pretend to be pious and devoted. How could he offend her so much without saying a single offensive thing? Ozymandias changed places on her shoulders, uneasy. “Far be it from me to be struck by a lightning for shunning away such a pious theory, coming off the lips of such a pious, lovely woman.”

She bit her lip to stop herself from frowning at his absurdity. Some scholars among them moved, slightly uncomfortable; others laughed at his joke, though very discreetly and briefly as if to not offend her. Asriel turned quiet as the conversation restarted. He offered other snarky, sassy remarks, but only when she spoke, or so she noticed it. He was right, however, when mocking her piety. She was, by no means, religious, instead being more of a convenient believer, whose life and reputation and career depended on the Magisterium’s good will and support.

At some point, the social circle started to move and she gave up on trying to be polite and restrained. They engaged in a fiery discussion about the depths of philosophical influence in practical researches, such as Asriel’s expeditions and Marisa’s theory under construction.

It took some time to realise they were left alone in their corner, chatting fiercely as they disagreed and agreed with one another. Marisa noticed how his dæmon was no longer lying on the floor, looking bored. Instead, she was lively staring at Ozymandias, her tail swinging.

“You cannot pretend it isn’t happening just because the Church is afraid of its own shadow.” Asriel said, though he looked composed and calm, there was a fire beneath his grey, dark eyes that wasn’t easy to fade. Marisa scoffed, and Ozymandias turned its back to the snow leopard, vain and dignified.

“What you speak of is heresy. Are you so full of yourself that you think you can do whatever you want, with no repercussions?” She said, and there it was again, the smirk of a dark amusement, as if she was a joke or something of the sorts. Marisa recomposed herself into the soft-spoken and sweet lady she had been before ever crossing paths with that wild man. She offered him a large, vicious smile and walked towards him and place a hand on his arm, softly. “Oh, of course you do. You’re used to doing whatever you want, you’re just another lord with a big pride and a big ego.”

“Is this your way of insulting me? It’s not working very well, might I add.” He retorted, disdainfully and leaned a bit. She didn’t move, though she knew she should’ve. That was improper, at the very least. “Or are you always this flirty with everyone else?”

“Don’t insult me, Lord Asriel. I’m happily married, thank you very much. I did not take you for a sensible man, but have some sense of yourself.”

They exchanged bitter smiles and she left, aware he was watching as she walked away. Ozymandias little hands were deep in her skin, to the point that almost hurt, but she had a winning smile for the rest of the evening. It mattered more that he had interest in her now, this way she could find a way to charm him. He was a doorway to many opportunities and she intended to decipher the man at any cost.

Asriel proved himself to be more interesting than she first thought too, though it was a sort of an annoying interesting. As she socialised, Marisa could feel the weight of his gaze upon her. He was lurking around the room, but he always made sure he was in her line of sight and would offer her a very indiscrete grin every time they locked eyes, which was happening very often. She started to feel slightly flustered, and amusingly bothered in his insistence to tease her from a distance, by existing there and being his own insulting and egregious self. He patronised everyone, with large smiles and sarcastic remarks, but Marisa knew he was after something, which was why he triggered everyone he could with polite insults.

He left without saying goodbye, and she stayed with a sense of dullness around her, which she noted, was a symptom of drowning herself in the amusement in Asriel’s eyes. He played her and left her with a strange, bittersweet taste in her mouth which she called nostalgia, but only ever to her dæmon.  


*******

 

She enjoyed life as a scholar at Saint Sophia’s college. It was a very good excuse to avoid her husband and her terribly boring life as his wife, despite all its glamour. Edward Coulter was an eloquent politician and a successful advisor to the King, yet he was not, by any means, an interesting man. He had been captivating when they first met, but after four years of marriage, his eloquent tricks were no longer amusing or smart. She lied, through and through, because Edward’s position opened doors and she needed them open. Marisa realised, though, after meeting Asriel, that she could no longer stand the dullness surounding her life. She had always loved playing politician, charming her way through thick people, thinking ahead to gain the upper hand. It was one of the reasons why she married Edward, and joy slowly faded within the first years, but after Asriel, it became nearly unbearable, even if she didn’t like the man at all.

So, when Edward brushed off her efforts to become more involved in politics, with a very unfortunate comment that _“no one would take you seriously, my dear”_ , Marisa found herself accepting the spot as an honorary member of Saint Sophia’s college. In was the third year of their marriage, and after a couple of months in the college, she decided to become a full member, dedicating her days to study the world and its natural order. She had a blast at first, finally finding a challenge worthy of herself and something to keep her away from Edward as much as she could, until that dreadful man showed up and turned everything else muddy and bland.

The afternoon sunlight crossed the dustied windows of the library, and Marisa had picked a spot well-lit by an open window. A soft, cool breeze moved her hair around, and Ozymandias sat by it, staring into the city’s landscape, light spreading itself over the cheesy Oxford roofs. She was carefully designing a star chart, almost ritualistic dipping her brush into black ink, so dark the sunlight barely reflected on its glass.

She had been working on it for a week now, religiously going to the library to paint the final details; that star chart was her final document, she was going to use it to assist her persuasion of Edward. He couldn’t care less for the matter of experimental theology, so she needed to be convincing enough. Though he would interpret her desire to travel to such distant places _to study_ as a wish for attention, he was likely to agree since he was too busy. Her _clinginess_ , as he put it last time she asked for something, got in his way. Ozymandias loathed the idea of nodding as a dimwit at his demeaning commentaries, his attempts to explain to her, contemptuously, things she knew far better than him. He was, however, an influential politician, and she needed not his agreement but his _influence_.

It was hard enough to try and go on practical research with the Magisterium breathing down their necks, watching their every move. But Saint Sophia’s had it harder, since they weren’t taken very seriously despite their many accomplishments and interests. Marisa was keen on dismantling that image of the college, but it was even harder to do that when most of the scholars didn’t take themselves seriously. They had to fight for scraps of resources that other colleges either didn’t want or need, because they already had _better_ resources, such as the library of Jordan College, where she stood now, using two very specific books, one of them handwritten, and she could not have used them otherwise.

Getting access to these books was tough, and she pulled every string and every charm she could on the college’s Master, yet she could only go so far on her own. Edward’s influence, though, opened doors within the Magisterium, doors she needed open if she wanted to travel.

“He is far too devoted for someone not take advantage of him.” Ozymandias told her, and she shushed him so she could finish her star chart. There was only one constellation missing. Marisa felt relief when she dipped the brush in the inkwell once more. She carefully placed the brush upon the empty spot on the paper, ready to draw a line.

Hell broke down on Earth, or so it seemed, as the doors to the library opened with a loud blast, as if someone kicked them open which they might as well have. Marisa got startled by that sound, but also because the man who _destroyed_ the doors— there was no other words to describe that immense sound —  walked in speaking, his voice like thunder. In shock, Marisa recovered from her initial jumpscare only to see her beautiful star map stained; she had moved the brush by accident when she got startled and half her work was gone now.

“You’d think they would have fixed the organizational method of this place after all this time.” Asriel spoke, while he was probably searching for something in particular, his voice unmistakably familiar to her ears. Seconds later, he let out a winning gasp. “Here! Take a look at this, Master. This is a compelling study of the atmosphere’s pressure that--”

There was no word in any language ever known that could describe how she was feeling. She stopped listening because she was being drowned in so many emotions her ears were buzzing. Placing her trembling hands on the table, while she tried to calm herself with grace, all Marisa had to denounce her fury was a deep frown. Ozymandias, on the other hand, was the true image of sadistic, raw rage. He jumped on the table, knocking the inkwell over the star chart, then ripped it off in a tantrum. All Marisa had left of a week’s work effort were scraps. She cursed Asriel in every single language she knew.

“Well, look who’s here!” His voice echoed closer this time. He had stopped by the table, a thick book open in his hands. When she took a deep breath and looked at him, she felt even more outraged for no particular reason other than he was looking good, too pleased with himself and far too sinful. “Never took you for a collage fan kind of woman, Marisa.”

In the warm sunlight, he left behind his heavy grey-ish travelling clothes for black pants and a white shirt, its sleeves folded up to his elbows. He had trimmed the beard, and it looked far more presentable now. _He’d rather dress himself to stand alone at a dusty library, surrounded by books and silence_ , Marisa noticed, _than dress himself nicely for a social gathering_ . Hearing her name in his lips, her _first_ name, made her feel slightly hotter than she should’ve been feeling. Ozymandias was twirling around Asriel’s dæmon, playfully.

“Why must you be so loud?” She said, putting the shreds of paper aside, furiously. She thought he was infuriating, yet there was a spark of excitement whenever he was around that made everything more vivid, more tasteful. “This is a bloody library, for Heaven’s sake!”

“You’re the one who is speaking so loud, Marisa, keep it quiet!” He replied and in a second he was sitting across her, staring deep into her eyes. She felt a slight shiver and told herself to calm down because she felt, out of a sudden, the urge to slap him. She recovered her gracious expression quickly, though it did not last long. “This is a library, after all.”

She scoffed, so angry she started to feel pain from the tension in her neck. He had quite the gift for dismantling her image of pure, calm and kind woman. She had never experience such an immunity before.

“You’re unbelievable!” She said, as he placed the book on the table, thumbing through it casually and carefree. Asriel looked up and she stared back with anger, though she bared her teeth in a vicious, false smile. All he did was smile back, genuinely amused. He _knew_ he was annoying her, and he insisted on doing it for whatever purpose. “You barge into the library like _that_ , you ruin my star chart and now you sit here, with me, as if nothing ever happened.”

“I did not tear your star chart apart, Marisa.”

There it was again, her _name_ again. He smiled as if he knew he was not allowed to do that. He had no sort of close relationship with her permitting him to call her that. She didn’t even tell him her first name, so Asriel was doing it to bother her on purpose, he wanted her to call him out on it, and she decided she wouldn’t. Marisa closed her eyes and sighed, deeply, slowly. Then she tapped twice on the wooden table, very decisively. Ozymandias came at once, leaving the snow leopard beneath the table, and sitting where her hand had touched the wood. He looked at her, communicating to her his disappointment; she couldn’t concentrate on her anger if he kept playing with Asriel’s dæmon and she mentally told him so.

“What do you want?” She asked, a bit too harshly even for herself, but they were alone in the library and he was already onto her schemes, so it was pointless to keep on pretending. He kept paging the book, without minding her this time. It made her angrier, but Ozymandias tried to contain himself and scratched the surface of the table, discontented.

“Oh, Marisa, you need not be so uptight.” He said, without looking at her, but this time she just couldn’t handle it. He was getting under her skin and she wasn’t used to it. It hurt, it was sore and it was uncomfortable and she hated every second of it: his smug attitude, his stupid smile, his outrageous insolence. She closed his book and set it violently aside; his expression told her she had lost whatever game they were playing, because he looked so _pleased_ it was absurd. “I heard you were in town, so I decided to see if you were up for an intellectual conversation, like at the party. I have to admit, though, I wasn’t expecting this at all, and I much prefer you now over your socialite masquerade.”

“You _prefer?_ You don’t get to prefer anything.” She retorted and Asriel laughed, but this time his voice was lower and so was hers.

“I simply wish to talk, Marisa.”

“No, you wish to mess with me, like you did at the party. I know you think it’s amusing to see me embarrassed and at a loss of words. It isn’t, Lord Asriel, and you are getting in my way.” Marisa replied, carefully, and she lowered her voice to a soft and musical whisper to finish. “And stop calling me by my first name, you know it’s not proper. We barely know each other. I’m married!”

He laughed, but in a very soft manner, as to not drawn any attention to them, despite being alone in the library. The cold breeze wasn’t enough to cool down Marisa’s warm skin, she was flustered and angry and frustrated at that man and it _showed_.

“What is so funny, now?” She said and her dæmon scratched the table again, deeper and more aggressive this time, but Asriel paid very little attention to him. He stared at her and Marisa felt light and furious at the same time.

“You keep repeating that to yourself, as if it’s a mantra.” He whispered, leaning on the table so she could hear it and feel his breath close by. She considered slapping him just for the sake of it, but decided to hold herself back. “I think it is quite amusing that you need to reassure yourself and everyone else that you are taken. It almost seems as if you don’t trust yourself.”

“Nonsense.”

“But is it, really?”

Marisa felt slightly dizzy, but she told herself it was just frustration. Ozymandias climbed on her shoulder and that seemed to encourage her to dismiss Asriel. His smile was wider now, nearly wolf like, the amusement in his eyes was a clear sign he was up to no good, but when was he ever?

“Stop it, Asriel.” She said, as firmly as she could, as graceful as she could. The table was keeping them apart, yet she almost felt him touching her, though it was more imaginary than the actual distance between them. She shook her head, angry and conflicting. “This isn't proper.”

“Because you are _happily_ married, Mrs. Coulter?”

It stung to hear Edward's name instead of her own and she felt silly for it. Yet, there it was again, that feeling he left with her when they first met. A hollowness she felt when surrounded by anyone because everyone seemed bland in comparison. Asriel was a spark of adventure and freshness she hadn't seen in a very long time, and he might have noticed it as well because why would he go to such lengths to merely bother her? What could he gain from it?

“Because I am happily married, Lord Asriel.”

She stood up, gathering her ink and her scraps, and with Ozymandias on her shoulder, she turned around to leave. Then, she twirled back to face Asriel one more time. There was this feeling inside her, a coldness spreading from her stomach to the whole of her body. She translated it as annoyance, though Ozymandias told her later it might have been a strong wish for Asriel to hold her before she walked away, half furious, half joyful.

He never did, though.

*******

 

“I will give you that much, you are one persistent man, Lord Asriel.” Marisa said, soft and quiet, as she felt his presence emerge at her side.

She was in an auditorium, hearing with great interest a lecture about the movement of the planets. There were about fifty people in there, as the German scholar spoke passionately, and she sat right at the front. Marisa had been preparing questions of different nature, for the end of the lecture, when she heard Asriel’s thunderous, powerful voice and they saw each other across the room. He was speaking to another scholar but his proud and his stoic, scholarly expression were instantly replaced by that deviant, vivacious smile, his eyes filled with a secretive amusement. She turned back to the front, watching as the scholar was preparing to begin his presentation, but Ozymandias took a glimpse and warned her Asriel was making his way towards their seat, slowly enough as if to tease her.

“God have mercy!” She whispered to herself, half annoyed, half pleased that she had managed to encase his interest for so long, despite its highly inappropriate nature. But unlike her other conquests, those she never acted upon because she didn't want to or because they served other purposes, Asriel was a dangerous possibility. He was wearing a dark coat that night, as autumn was coming to an end, and she took care to dress herself with a beautiful tone of dark blue, under a white coat. She sighed as she saw him approaching her seat, a smirk so devious he could have been Satan himself. Marisa tried not to grin herself.

When he was about to reach her, Marisa stood up and quickly moved between the seats, in a timely movement. As Asriel approached her seat, she managed to get away but sacrificed her front row seat to at least five rows behind, a bit more distant than she liked it. Yet, he could not follow because she waited until she knew the presentation was about to start, to change seats. When the lights went dark, Asriel took her previous seat and looked at her, eyes glistening, a discreet smirk on his lips that Marisa couldn't decipher this time.

She breathed out, relieved she avoided his inconspicuous yet very straightforward temptation, and focused herself on the lecture, listening with great interest. But Asriel was out to get her, as she realised, as he managed to discreetly climb the rows during the lecture and eventually they were sitting side by side, alone on their own row. There weren't many people in the room, so most seats were empty, and the ones taken were all in front of them. So, Marisa told herself a thousand times that Asriel was discreet enough, and that no one saw how their hands brushed when he sat down or how she blushed lightly, feeling flustered and warm when she took her hand away. Luckily, she managed to get ahold of herself and her voice did not falter when she accused him of being persistent, even if in a complimenting way.

“I fear I don't quite follow you, Marisa.” He replied and he had leaned a bit to whisper, and she no longer could hear the lecturer properly because his voice made her shiver, uncontrollably. His breath, warm on her neck, on her ear, made her hands numb and Ozymandias buzz quietly, impatiently.

“Why are you _following_ me?” She asked, her voice harsher than it should have been. He laughed at that, but only ever so quietly she could feel the sound shaking in his throat. He was too close. Ozymandias was exchanging glances with his dæmon already. Marisa tried to hear the scholar, to no avail.

“Don't flatter yourself. I stumbled upon you here because I wanted to see the lecture just as you did.”

“Fuck you.”

She bit her lip and tried to recompose herself, with mild success. But he had been too close, he still was, and his scent was around her now, musky, woody, citric. Marisa told herself she was just engulfed by the freshness he represented, the innovative and creative work of practicality, that he was interesting but in a way that was just a nuisance, much like static, echoing in her ears.

“How very graceless of you.” He whispered in her ear, and she knew she had let her guard down because this time he was really too close, enough that his lips brushed her earlobe when he spoke. A current took over her body and she immediately flinched and squirmished and discreetly pushed him away.

“Have you ever heard of boundaries?” She said, not daring to look him in the eyes. She feared her resolve would falter and there was a high chance of that happening. She pushed him back to his seat, a hand on his shoulders. There was a glittering in his eyes she almost described as malice. “What is it that you seek? You stalk me, you start inappropriate conversations, and I can deal with that. I can’t deal, however, with your lack of sense, Asriel, _and_ your inconsistency.”

She was really distressed now, panting softly and wide eyed. Afraid someone had seen her push him back, Marisa looked around, unnerved, but everyone was paying attention to the lecture. Asriel, however, stopped; his expression softened, the devious grin disappeared, even in the dark she noticed it. He took the hand she used to push him back to his place, and kissed the back of it. Then with his thumb, rubbed lightly the spot his lips had touched it, slightly touching her wedding ring. She felt a shiver when his calloused hands touched her, but she shivered even more when he apologised. It took Marisa sometime to realise Asriel’s interest in her was not get something out of her, but to actually get _her_. She was so used to seducing people to accomplish her goals, it was hard to see his motivations so clearly at first. Now, she saw it and it was unnerving at best.

“I had no intention to distress you so much, forgive me. I was just teasing you, but your resolve is made of iron.” He laughed, but in a less offensive way than she thought possible. He then turned around to face the presentation again, and she did the same, shaking. “You’re resourceful, Marisa, and quite remarkable. What are your thoughts on this subject?”

For a moment she did not know what to say, but he had gestured at the presentation and she understood at last. He wanted her opinion, on something so trivial, after all that? Her heart was beating fast. She told him she thought it was of moderate importance, though understanding how planets worked was another step towards understanding how the world worked. He laughed softly when she mentioned that it was also a pathway to heresy, according to the Church.

“Why must you use sentences like these as a shield, when you have already clearly stated that I’m heretic?” He mumbled, and she moved, feeling less uncomfortable; she even giggled and exchanged glances with him. “I’m not going to report you for saying a thing or two that might go against the Church.”

“It is what it is.” It’s all she could say.

Asriel kept himself at a respectable distance as they watched in a friendly silence the remainder of the lecture. She felt that cold feeling in her stomach once more, a strange yet nice sensation that spread through her body and made her feel hot and dizzy. When the lights went back on, she controlled herself not to show her flustered behaviour and gave Ozymandias a helping hand, so he would climb on her shoulder once more. Asriel stood up when she did and stretched his arms, yawning like a lion and she marvelled at how regal and wild he seemed, how his dæmon was beautiful and royal. He smiled, less malicious, and offered her his arm.

She knew she shouldn’t have, but she took it anyway. He guided her down until the front, where the scholar was surrounded by three or four other scholars. Asriel greeted the men cheerfully and snarky as usual, and introduced her in a very vivacious way. In a moment, they were all discussing their interests in the German’s research and plans for future philosophical insights.

Marisa tried to pretend she didn’t notice Asriel’s eyes upon her as she spoke, very eloquently to the men, charming them so easily it was almost angelical.

*******

 

Next time they saw each other, Marisa wished they didn’t because it was a risky situation that ended up just making her bare her teeth and scratch her own pillow at night. No surprise there, though, because her encounters with Asriel always seemed to end up the same way, which meant a lot of spark between them but always leaving empty-handed, as Ozymandias constantly stated to her.

Edward and her attended a gala, which normally she would’ve enjoyed, but as they arrived she saw a glimpse of a tail and she just knew — as much as Ozymandias knew it too — Asriel was there as well. Two minutes later and she saw his figure, imposing, wild and surprisingly well-dressed for a man whom last attended a party in dusty travelling clothes. When his eyes met hers, she looked the other way, gracefully, because she hadn’t said a single word to Edward about meeting the man and she really wasn’t about to.

“You should’ve said something.” Ozymandias scolded her, as she sipped carefully at her champagne, avoiding Asriel and his demanding, sinful gaze at all costs. He was back at it again, staring, grinning, putting himself within her eyesight and she was almost glad, because it was easier to be edgy with him when he wasn’t being nice to her. She ignored him as he kept staring, but she sensed his gaze. She sensed other people’s gaze as well, but why should she care when Asriel was the only one who ever disregarded her yet here they were, staring at each other, abusing her luck so far. Marisa realised her discontentment when they first met had become a sort of turntables, because now he was paying attention to her, too much attention.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hello darling, remember that wild man you told me about? The one whose expedition was nearly branded as heretic? We’ve met and he’s been quite ardent towards me.’ I think not” She whispered to him, slowly checking around the room to see if Edward was around. Ozymandias changed places on her shoulder and he scratched her a little in eagerness. She chided him for it. “Even if he believed I haven’t been complacent to it, he would grow suspicious and territorial. It’s best if we pretend we don’t know him.”

Lucky for her, she was right, because half an hour later, Marisa was found by Edward and he insisted she needed to meet someone. And there they were, across each other once more; she knew his smile was of contempt and amusement, as usual, but she offered him a large, nearly genuinely naive smile and offered her hand for him to kiss.

“Lord Asriel, this is my wife, Marisa. He’s an explorer, dear, a sort of an expert in your field.” Edward said, and Asriel was making sure she would sweat out of that situation. He made an exaggerated bow to kiss her hand and laughed loudly when he heard Edward.

“If only that were true, Coulter, if only that were true. But nonetheless, it is a pleasure, Mrs. Coulter.” Asriel said, and nodded and his dæmon tail flinched because _of course he was having a blast_ , at her expense no less.

“Lord Asriel mentioned he’s read your research, dear. Practically begged me to introduced you, so here she is, my lord. Quite the catch, wouldn’t you say?” Edward said, so proud, so dull Marisa’s smile twitched a little, but she didn’t lose her composure, even when Asriel nodded fiercely to Edward, a wide smile that seemed more as if he was baring his teeth. “So, dear, I’ve seen the minister of defense right there, I need to chat with him, why don’t you amuse Lord Asriel for a while? He’s a member of Jordan College, quite well educated.”

“Yes, Mrs. Coulter, please _amuse_ me.” Asriel said, through a dark grin when Edward left them alone, near a balcony. Marisa rolled her eyes, but tried not to show much distaste in her expression, instead offering him a sweet smile, quite poisonous.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You do know what I mean. This. _Edward.”_ She lowered her voice when it pitched higher than it should have been. “Are you insane?” She asked, and Asriel took another glass of champagne, agile, careless. His lips were curved in a bitter smirk. Marisa scoffed. “I thought you were going to stop this nonsense!”

“Did you really? I think you rather enjoy it!” He said, in a whisper, nodding at someone he knew, at a distance. Marisa felt Ozymandias hold her ankle, impatient. “At first I thought you would be boring, to be honest, but you made quite a statement at that event. You’re only boring when you’re lying.”

“Oh, when am I lying now?” She said, but she felt this spark of energy bursting like it did several times before.

“When you say you aren’t flattered, when you act like a dutiful wife. Your religious woman act is quite amusing too, but I’ve heard of you, _Mrs. Coulter,_ of your dealings with the Church. You’re a power-hungry, clever woman, which explains beautifully why you are so eager to please that rat nest that is the Magisterium.” Asriel said, sipping casually at his drink. Marisa rose an eyebrow. There it was; she always knew he could see through her act, but that was a whole new level of omniscience. “But I can live with that.”

“Oh?”

“Come on now, I’m doing you a favour here. Your husband would’ve learned sooner or later that you’ve been talking to me. Now, _he_ is the one that introduced us; so the rumours are useless now, if they ever arise.” Asriel said, so full of it Marisa’s face darkened a bit; how prepotent could he be? “So, there you are. You can thank me later, if you’d like, _anyway_ you like.”

She shook her head, a smile stamping her face, enigmatic. She felt Ozymandias scratch her leg, eager, anxious, and she knew her pride had been wounded, but she couldn’t show it, not so openly. She helped the golden monkey climb to her shoulder once more and gave Asriel a cold gaze behind that bright smile of hers.

“If you think I’m going to thank you for fixing a situation you created yourself, you know nothing about me and that’s very reassuring.” She said, looking at him, defiant. She was daring him to challenge her further, but he shook his head.

“Of course not. You’re relentless, Marisa, but you are not as ruthless as you think. Sometimes you’re an interesting spark, I enjoy watching your schemes from afar, all these fools stuck around your finger, like flies to honey.” He said, as Stelmaria as rubbing her head against his legs, impatient. Marisa grinned further as he went on. “I don’t need to tell you this, though. You are well aware of that.”

“Indeed. Make your point, Asriel.”

“Then, you hide behind that curtain of uptightness, you wear that mask — no need to lie, we both know it’s a mask — of religiousness. It bores me to death.”

She laughed, amused and offended at the same time. That man’s bloody gall! He said such horrendous things in such a complimenting way, as if she would swoon over him because he was _mean_ , so brutally honest. She checked subtly to see if Edward wasn’t within eyesight, and then took a step further, closing in the distance between them. For a moment she saw something in his eyes, a glowing flicker, as if he was caught by surprise, but Asriel was one of a kind and he didn’t lose his posture so easily.

“Oh, really? You are really not that interesting, too. You fancy yourself as a visionary, a man above others, yet here you are, a common cliché, persistently flirting — no need to lie as well, we both know it’s the truth — with a married woman.”

“Well,” he laughed, looking around, and she delighted in the idea he was also concerned about Edward. “you never said I shouldn’t.”

Marisa scoffed, shaking her head. She took a step back.

“I think I recall repeatedly telling you I am married and that you’ve been quite inappropriate.”

“You never meant it, though.”

“Of course I did!” She shook her head, feeling that cold feeling spread through her body once more. “It’s time for you to stop. It has been fun to play with you.” She lowered her voice to say that and his smirk turned into a wide smile. “You and I both know you’d never act upon it, and neither would I.”

Asriel grinned and she felt cornered, for some reason. He took her hand once more and rose it to his mouth. She was afraid of his exhibitionism, afraid that Edward would see too far into it, even if there was nothing too see. Asriel was outrageous, regardless of subject, and she could always improve her role as a virtuous, dedicated wife and Scholar. Because she was so worried, she did not have time to escape his grasp once he pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver ever so slightly.

“You and I both know that is a lie.”

He, then, stepped away from her and nodded courteously, as she looked everywhere for Edward, but he was nowhere to be seen. Others didn’t seem to be paying attention to them, but however odd Marisa found that, she did not care at all at that moment. In fact, she was quite grateful. “Have a good evening, Mrs. Coulter.”

When he left, Marisa stayed where she was, trying to be as inconspicuous as she could, though that didn’t seem to work when Asriel wasn’t around. People approached her, politicians, clergy and aristocrats, and she had to talk to them, ever so charming and magnetic. She was good at that, even though her mind kept wandering to Asriel again and again, and Ozymandias whispered in her ear that she should focus on the task at hand. She moved around the party, once again in her element, but her eyes kept looking for Asriel and his beautiful leopard, yet he was nowhere to be seen anymore.

When Edward approached her, slightly drunk and excited about his dealing with whomever he had spoken to, she had to control her urge to tell him to shut up. He never did shut up, however, instead boring her the entire way home with dull comments about this or that, yet she heard very little of it, stuck in her own thoughts.

In bed, later, Marisa couldn’t find a way to fall asleep, for Asriel haunted her thoughts, and she feared he would also haunt her dreams, forcing her to wake up while calling his name in her sleep, only to destroy her life entirely.

*******

 

She didn’t see him for the next three months, which made her feel both relief and a bit of disappointment. When the third month came, she heard from the master of Jordan while she was using their library again, that Asriel had left in another expedition to the North and was due to return in a few days. So she tried to suppress that little joy inside of her, told herself he had simply left to explore once more, that he hadn’t truly forgotten about her, and she went on for the next days, waiting for his return eagerly, but also in denial.

However, when he came back, Marisa saw very little of him. He didn’t approach her, as she had expected, though her arguments with Ozymandias were always about that, and how she shouldn’t be _expecting_ him to approach her again. She was married, after all, and she had a reputation to uphold, one that could easily vanish if she were to give in to Asriel’s excruciatingly painful temptations. She would always reassure her golden monkey that she wasn’t craving Asriel’s attention, after all, she told him to leave her alone, didn’t she? But neither her dæmon or Marisa herself believed that, because they were a part of one another, and though they were the best liars they knew, they couldn’t truly lie to themselves.

Once again Asriel’s indifference made her flinch, only this time it stung much worse than before. Marisa couldn’t quite explain it, except that she wanted those brief, bittersweet exchanges once more, his lustful and bemused gazes upon her,  and Asriel was keen on not giving them back.

She worked her way around it though, by visiting Jordan on almost a daily basis, especially the library. And she saw him there very often, diving in books that had nothing to do with anything and although his dæmon acknowledged Ozymandias almost every time Marisa was in the room, Asriel didn’t bother looking at her. Not even to see who had entered the place. So she would sit at her favourite spot, by the open window, and try to pay attention to her own research, though the mere presence of the man there, blatantly _ignoring_ her, was distracting.

“We shouldn’t care.” Ozymandias told, quietly, in a cloudy, rainy day. Asriel was across the room, mumbling almost as if in a trance, as he read his own notes.

Marisa _knew_ she shouldn’t care, but then again she had never felt that way before, and she liked the thrill of it, the constant caution, the meaningful gazes, even if Asriel was playing hard to get now. She hated every second of it, he was probably delighted to bother her once more and she couldn’t control herself at one point.

So, she stood up and walked to his table, and there she stood, quietly, watching him read and take notes in a separate notebook. The snow leopard’s tail flinched for a moment, it was all Marisa needed to help her resolve. He still was reading, awfully pleased with himself. So, knowing they were alone, she sat beside him, closely. Their elbows touched and he straightened himself in his own chair, and exhaled harshly when she leaned to read his notes, her hair brushing against his cheek, her scent all around him now. She was being extra just because he deserved to be bothered.

“What do you want, Marisa?” He said, in a very raspy voice. Putting his pen down, he didn’t look into her eyes, even when she slipped her hands into his, playfully.

“I heard you’re back from the North, I would like to ask some questions, if you’d like.” She said, and he stared at her, a soft smirk on his lips as his brash hands held her neck beneath her hair, as he took her from her chair and pressed her back against a tall shelf. The lumps of the books were harsh on her skin, event through the fabric of her blouse, but one of Asriel’s hands was on her back and she cared more about it than anything else.

He kissed her, harshly, and she knew it had been a mistake to extend such a situation for too long when they should have kissed the same night they met, though nothing would’ve change substantially, except their bliss together would’ve lasted longer. Marisa was well-aware that when he backed away, eventually, she would still be married and that whole thing would have only added to the damage it would do to her career if they ever got caught. Nonetheless, she didn’t stop because there was no tangible reason to, there was a warmth in him from afar that was like a brazier so up close. Under the table was Ozymandias and the snow leopard, playfully rolling over each other.

“I don’t think you should be here, Marisa.” Asriel said, holding her tightly against himself. He smelled of herbs and smoke, and he tasted like Tokay and mint. He had a grin stamped on his face.

“Me neither.” She said, and kissed him again, more fiercely than before. They only stopped when the doors to the library opened with a resounding noise, and he went back to his chair, as agile as a cat, and she pretended to be looking for a book in the same shelf she had been pressed against. There was a soft fluster in her face, she was aware of that, but she posed as gracefully as she could, and two young scholars walked by them, barely noticing Asriel while staring at Marisa for a second or two, before moving along. Ozymandias had climbed back to her arms, trembling.

“That was unwise.” He said, amused, and she did not dare look at him because she would return to his arms and they weren’t alone anymore. He was right, that was an unwise move, but she felt warm and joyful.

“You’re one to talk, Asriel.” She mumbled.

“Well, I am not the one who is married, Marisa.” Asriel jested, with contempt, and Marisa delighted herself in the idea he was actually jealous of Edward. “Are you satisfied?”

“Oh, I was expecting more, as matter of fact.” She whispered, playfully, at his ear. He exhaled brashly, astounded, mesmerised by her. It was a risky move, but she had to do it. “You could use with some improvement.”

Asriel snorted, as she left him behind, her heart beating fast, her dæmon shaking in her arms.

*******

 

Marisa watched as he slept beside her, but even in his dreams, Asriel was the pure image of distress and wildness. Even asleep he defied the laws of nature and the Church. Marisa pressed herself against him and Ozymandias snuggled his dæmon. He had finally introduced her - Stelmaria - and her name was as regal and profound as the dæmon herself. How could they be so relaxed when they slept such restless nights?

She knew she should not have come, when he asked her to visit his study, near Jordan. Nothing good would come out of it, but Edward was back in London for business, and Marisa was bored, so she told herself the damage had already been done since they kissed in the library. What else could she do? Her dæmon gave her countless reasons not to go, but when Asriel greeted her at his study’s door and invited her in, Ozymandias stopped and gave in just as easily as she did.

Asriel had a raw, brute way to be, yet he touched her with such a passionate care she felt compelled to tell him she was not made of glass. After that, he left marks on her back that she knew she would struggle to hide from Edward and that thought was terrifying and thrilling. She regretted nothing until later, when he fell asleep and she was haunted with guilt, not because of Edward, but because she was endangering her career. Night had come and the room was dark, and the cold had taken over the streets outside but a fireplace kept them warm, nearby, as Asriel’s body kept her warm as well.

As the fire died, however, Marisa’s life started to sunk in and she realised she was making a mistake. Asriel lived a life in which she might have had a place, and he constantly reminded her of that. He was quite smitten, despite his rude and insulting behaviour, and she rejoiced in that idea, until she realised she might as well be in the same state. He plagued her thoughts, and she struggled to see past the infatuation. Marisa indulged him for so long because she wanted to see what she could get out of him, yet she ended up reconsidering her entire adult life and beyond.   _But you already had a life in which he can’t fit properly_ , she reminded herself.

She turned her back to him, now watching the golden monkey and the snow leopard on the floor. Confident that she should not have come, she prepared herself to stand up when Asriel’s strong arms embraced her and he kissed her neck. She felt at peace once more, but only for an instant.

“You’re distressed.” He whispered. She did not dare look at him. She realised he could disarm her skills to lie and deceive when staring at her, but only if he was quick enough and his resolve did not falter, otherwise he was lost.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“True.” He laughed, quietly, speaking directly at her ears. He was warm and rough, his beard tickled her skin.

She tried to get up once more, but he held her tight and kissed her shoulder. Marisa noticed she did not want to go, she just _had_ to.

“Please, let me go, Asriel.” She asked, in a genuine gentle tone. Quite unrealistic for her, in fact. “I need to go.”

“No.” He pulled her towards him, so she turned to face him. They kissed, fiercely. Marisa gathered courage to look him in the eyes. “Come with me.”

That took her by surprise. What was he even saying?

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m going back to the North, I want you to accompany me.” She had never seen him so serious as he was at that moment. He kissed her again and then stopped. She was feeling dizzy.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re forgetting one tiny detail about me.” She mocked him, showing him the ring on her finger and he grinned. When he kissed her this time, she bit his lip. “You’re not listening, Asriel.”

“Leave him.” It was almost a demand. His hands were on her bare back and he pressed them against her skin with strength. She gasped from the pressure, then scoffed at his absurdity.

“You think it’s that simple.”

“You only married him for power, Marisa, and I can give you so much more.” He said and she almost believed him. What he didn’t see, however, was the price to pay for such an idea, he wasn’t unused to that because he could have it all. Marisa felt compelled to lie and say she loved Edward, but Asriel already had control over her, so she just sighed the truth.

“Yes, but Edward _likes_ me. He won’t let me go.” She said,  and while she tried to get up again, Asriel climbed atop of her and she laughed heartily at his persistence. But she felt the worry take over her, even as he kissed her and doubt faded for a moment, only to return worse than before. “It will cost me too much.”

“You’re nothing but a trophy to him, so that pathetic man can find something else to show to his friends.” Asriel snorted, angry. She raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it bother you, to be a mere pretty thing to be shown off? You’re so much more than that, Marisa.”

“I do what I must. Now, please, let me go.” She asked politely, pressing her hands against his chest as he hovered over her, but he did not move.

“Come with me, Marisa.” He said, fiercely.

“Asriel, I--”

“Leave him and come with me, I can give you all you need to establish yourself.” He whispered, intense and fiery as always, and Marisa marvelled at his power and command, but she knew better than he did that things were not that easy and simple. Not for her, anyway.

“Spoken like a man who never was second-guessed in his life!” She mocked him and he grinned back at her. “It’s not that easy, Asriel. It will taint my life forever, the Church will never forget.”

“Who cares about the Church, Marisa?”

“They hold the power, Asriel. They have since forever, and your defiance changes absolutely nothing!” She snapped, but all he did was laugh. “If anything, you’re just making a target of yourself.”

“You assume that I care.”

“I know you don’t, which is precisely why I cannot be with you. You deem yourself above their grasp, but you are not. No one is.” She said and he buried his face in her neck. She scratched his back and he gasped. “Stop this nonsense, now. You said Edward can replace me, well, so can you. Even better, you are free to do so.”

He rose his head to stare at her, beautiful, stoic, fiery as always. She needed her resolve back if she was to leave that bed, but Asriel was making it so difficult. He kissed her once again, more gently this time.

“You are not a trophy to me, therefore you cannot be replaced.”

He leaned in for another kiss, but she stopped by putting her finger against his lips. Marisa knew that if they kissed again, she would give in once more and she needed to leave at that moment.

“Beautiful words, Asriel, but empty ones.” She said, and pushed him aside.

She chased her clothes from the floor, Ozymandias now scratching her ankles slightly, angry because he wanted to stay. Marisa tried to ignore him and dressed herself as Asriel sat on the bed, and turned on the bedside lamp. He had a vigorous gaze upon her, as if he was measuring her will. She tried to recompose herself before he could see she had almost nothing of it left.

“Did he ever hurt you?” He said, out of a sudden. Stelmaria had hopped on the bed to sit across his lap, his hands were buried in her fur. Marisa snorted.

“What are you on about, now?”

“Coulter. Has he ever hurted you?” Asriel repeated himself, seriously. She had no idea what was his point, but that was a recurring thing between them. “If he did, we could use it to our advantage.”

Marisa laughed, heartily. The idea that Edward could hurt her was too amusing, if not entirely impossible.

“Oh, Asriel! No, he never did. Edward is harmless.”

“What if we tempt him with someone else? Some friend of yours, perhaps?” He went on, and Marisa smiled at his attempt to create a plan to free her from her marriage. It was very flattering, coming from him, as insulting as he usually was, but he had been persistent so far, so why shouldn’t he be now too? “I know some witches I could send his way, enough for a scandal.”

“He is devoted and a faithful member of the Church.” Marisa said, setting her hair right and putting on her heels. “It wouldn’t work, Asriel.”

He smiled, mischievously.

“So are you, Marisa.” His voice gave her shivers, but all she did was scoff. “And witches are gorgeous creatures. It’s hard to resist.”

“Then, tell me: would you replace me with a witch, Asriel?” She meant to sound sweet and contemptuous, but Marisa feared she sounded resentful, perhaps even jealous and she hated it. To no one’s surprise, Asriel laughed as if she was a joke herself.

“Well, to begin with, they are far easier to get than you are, Marisa.” He said, and she rolled her eyes as to not seem offended, which she was for a moment. Even Stelmaria had an amused expression, and Ozymandias threatened to go to her, so Marisa took him in her arms. “You should work on that.”

“Fetch yourself a witch, then.”

She walked to his side of the bed to get her purse on the bedside table, but before she could get away from him, he held her wrist.

He pulled her fiercely towards him and she nearly fell upon Stelmaria. That could have been the most sinful thing he would have made her do, so far. Ozymandias went back to the snow leopard when they kissed again, Asriel’s hand holding her wrist as his other hand held her head tightly, almost pulling her hair. Marisa backed away with all the resolve she had left. He looked as if in a frenzy.

“I want you, not a witch.”

“You only want me because you cannot have me, it must be hard for you.” She mocked him as he let her arm loose. “You’re not used to being denied, are you?”

“Do you prefer to be with him, then?”

She stood silent for a while. His eyes demanded an answer, and her dæmon intertwined with his should have been enough, but he wanted more.

“What do you think?”

“I think you are too power-hungry for your own good, Marisa, and you are willing to play along with that sad excuse of a man for a piece of influence.” Asriel said, his eyes glittering with excitement. She shook her head and backed away from the bed, Ozymandias whined softly when he climbed to her shoulders. “With me, you can have so much more. Stay.”

“No, I can’t, you know that.” She said, trying to keep herself together. Suddenly she felt _sad_ and that did not make sense. Asriel was a brute, a heretic; they had fun and that was the end of it. Whatever feeling she was feeling should go away, as quick as it came, because they were not meant to be. She knew that since it started, she knew it when they kissed and when they slept together, she knew it now when they stared at each other and he looked fierce, yet quite smitten by her sight. It gave her a little pleasure to acknowledge that, but the price for such a difficult conquest was that she had been conquered as well.

“You can, just leave him and come with me. I have properties that are worth the Empire’s land itself, I can protect you.”

“Asriel, don’t be foolish. It’s unlike you to be foolish. I cannot go with you, I need to go.”

He frowned, annoyed for the first time since they met, yet it vanished as soon as it showed. He looked bored once again, uninterested.

“Then, fine. Go away. I shall not beg.”

As she walked away from him, Marisa felt his deep gaze upon her back. She turned around at the door, to look at him once more. He had opened a book and was quite concentrated, but Stelmaria’s tail was swinging violently, their frustration and anger visible there. Marisa sighed, conflicted.

“We shall not see each other again, Asriel, for my sake. Please, do not contact me anymore.”

Nothing, in her entire life, hurt her more than the mere nod he offered as an answer to that and she left, with Ozymandias as her sole company, and an irreplaceable hollowness.

*******

 

Marisa tried to let go of the feelings she felt for Asriel in the months that followed and he did an extraordinary job of avoiding her and giving her some peace of mind. He had left for the North again, or so she heard from the Master when she visited Jordan a month later. She felt sad, but also relieved, for she feared Asriel’s insistence and temper more than anything. In his absence, Edward took some time off his schedule, and though sex with him was always as uninteresting as the man himself, Marisa was glad it happened with a certain consistency, because by the time Asriel returned from the North, six months later, she was heavily pregnant and in despair.

Her true mood was always foul when she was thwarted, but her pregnancy added a further layer of distaste in her existence, one that she found it harder to conceal. She was prone to silent or loud rage, chiding servants for anything at all, and even Ozymandias was targeted at times. She was sore, swollen and irritated at anyone’s breathing sounds, so Edward, per her request, left for London for a couple of weeks to give her peace.

He was thrilled about the baby, of course he was, but Marisa already knew it wasn’t his. It could be, but something whispered to her that it wasn’t his. She did not know what to do, but when she heard that Asriel had returned to Oxford, she swallowed her pride and sent for him as discreetly as she could. It was a note asking him to come to her house, and nothing more, and as she dismissed every servant she had, Marisa began to question if he would come. She had explicitly told him to not contact her anymore, yet there she was, doing the exact opposite of her request. Would he even come, tainting his pride as well? Would he try to pester her by not coming at her desire? It wasn’t unlike him to annoy her for nothing.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to ask for me, Marisa.” He said, when she told him to come in. He had a smug smile stamped on his face, and there was a wound over his left cheek. He looked more wild than before, but his eyes had a glow of triumph that disappeared in the exact same moment he saw her.

They stood silent for a while, as he tried to express whatever he was feeling and she couldn’t read his face. Was it anger or surprise? Marisa couldn’t say and she also didn’t know what to say, but he recomposed himself quickly.

“Well, I guess congratulations are in order.” He said, with distaste, and Marisa realised he did not understood the situation well. He seemed to think that she was pregnant with Edward’s baby, which explained his sudden fury and contempt.

“It’s yours, Asriel. I am certain of it.” She said, and he changed again.

He embraced her, with a clumsy care, as she felt his heat and his scent around her. _Everything will be fine, Asriel will fix this,_ she told herself constantly as they kissed. She felt tears in her eyes and she held him tighter.

“I don’t know what to do, Asriel. I am terrified, truth be told.” She whispered in a hurry. “Edward is in London because my bad temper is inconveniencing him, but he will be back by the time the baby is born. I know it is yours, what will I do?”

“Are you certain of it?”

She backed away, infuriated. How did he dare say that?

“Do not offend me, of course I am certain!” She snapped, but he didn’t flinch. “This is _your_ doing, Asriel.”

He scorned her, and she got even angrier. Then, she felt despair take over her once more and she rubbed her temples to calm herself down. A miscarriage would be a good excuse or even better if it was a fact, but she chided herself for considering it.

“I cannot do this, Asriel. Edward will find out and we’re lost.” Marisa said, pacing through the living room. He walked towards her, slowly, then took her in his arms once again. This time, she didn’t feel calm like before. “Asriel, what will I do? What can we do? I feel so lost, right now.”

“This is what you will do: when the time comes and you go into labor, I will come and take the baby. Tell Coulter the baby died, or tell him whatever you wish, it doesn’t matter.” Asriel said, stern and stoic as ever. He was calm, Marisa even thought he sounded pleased, but how could he, when everything was a couple of months away to fall apart?“I will take the baby to one of my estates and keep it safe. Then, I will come back for you and there shall be no argument this time.”

“Asriel, you know I can’t!”

“You can and you will. I will not have this discussion anymore, you ask for my assistance and you shall have it, but this the end of this matter. It is my child, after all.”

He kissed her brashly before he left, quick and vigorous. His expression was of joy and worry, and Marisa told herself it would all be fine in the end, it was almost too easy to believe. She even started to be fond of the baby, the idea that she and Asriel could have a normal life together was fuel to that fire. Before their encounter, the baby had always been it, sometimes even in front of Edward. She didn’t feel the attachment she supposed she needed to, it felt constantly as an inconvenience. But Asriel changed that slightly, as he had changed so many things in her life before.

When the baby came, however, she realised something must have been wrong with her. She saw the child, after hours of laborious pain and sweat and blood and Marisa felt… _nothing_ . Well, not entirely nothing, but she certainly did not feel as much as she thought she would. It was just a baby, ordinary yet life-damaging, so much that tiny little human with its tiny dæmon had done to her life before even being born. So much it would do now that it no longer was stuck in a realm of possibilities, now that it was a fact, as concrete as metal. _She,_ Marisa thought bitterly, holding the girl for five seconds before returning her to the woman who helped her through labour. She was a servant of Asriel’s, aware of the situation, and curious as to why Marisa felt so strongly about not holding the baby anymore.

She told her she was tired and postponed the girl’s name. She had never felt as dirty as she did after the girl was born, but before, she couldn’t see her sins as she did now. They had the shape of a baby girl now, and she would soon learn to walk, then talk, then she would be a woman as well and she would taint the world like Marisa and Asriel had done. She felt doubt and that alone was enough to crumble her, for a moment.

Asriel came in the middle of the night, and took the girl. They did not see each other because he couldn’t stay, Edward was on his way home from London and Marisa had to lie, through and through, as she had done so many times before. It wasn’t as hard to lie as she thought it would be, when he came. His sadness was a tangible feeling, her own sadness was a fake mask to cover her distaste and her guilt over her own actions.

Suddenly, she began to wonder if there was truly a hell and if she belonged in it.

*******

 

Things went off track so quickly, Marisa felt she was dreaming, deluded by a fever. Yet, all was true.

Before Asriel could come back for her, a week later, Edward learned the truth. She never found out who told him or how it happened, she thought that perhaps someone saw Asriel and her at some point, or perhaps Edward’s political enemies fed him information to dismantle his position. She even indulged the painful idea that Asriel himself might have done it, but truth was nowhere to be found, as she expected, being a master of deceit herself.

Her husband surprised her horribly, for she never took him for a violent man. But the idea that Asriel took her from him was unbelievable, enough that he found himself a pistol and marched a war path towards Asriel and the baby, whom she learned during the trial, Asriel had named Lyra. She was contacted by the authorities announcing that Edward had been killed, by Asriel’s hands no less, hours later.

The trial was quick and merciless, as was the hand of the Magisterium. As she had predicted, they were out to get Asriel and he handed them the perfect opportunity when he murdered her husband. Marisa felt numb for days, not because of his death, but due to the consequences of it, yet she wore herself in a suit of false sadness, because there was nothing else she could do. She sat in front of Asriel during the trial, and mourned her husband and blamed herself, sin and Asriel and all she could. His expression was steel, cold and sharp. Asriel was the image of disgust and hate, and she regretted being the source and target of it, but she needed to look after herself. Her heart ached a lot, but she had told him a thousand times it would have consequences.

They took everything from him, but not his freedom. By law, he was protecting his child, so they couldn’t lock him away. They sent their child to a priory, despite Asriel’s protest, and because Marisa wanted nothing do with it. _Her._ She would only reinforce the image of sinful woman she had gained, and Marisa was not a mother. If anything, the girl would be better off with the nuns, as far from sin as possible.

As Edward’s widow, she was entitled to his wealth and properties. His family tried to fight her in court over that, but she managed it by charming and intimidating people in equal measure. Soon, she found herself in London and her network was growing again. Her sinful past was not much of a taint as she thought it would be, in fact, it made it easier for her to play victim and naive, a pious woman that had fallen prey to a heretic’s temptation.

Her epiphany of hell faded, replaced by things of far more tangible nature, such as Dust, and she became nothing but ruthless and amoral, the pure personification of sweet and poisonous eloquence.

 


End file.
